


Heart Hart Head

by blue_is_samazing



Series: Sanders Sides College AU Because I Am Not Original [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, But its not cutting, Forgetting to eat, I'll put a warning in the bottom notes with the specifics, Logan has a meltdown, Meltdown, Other, POV Alternating, Self-Harm, Sensory Overload
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 05:49:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17461790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_is_samazing/pseuds/blue_is_samazing
Summary: PREQUEL TO SUNRISE SECRETS but you don't have to read that to understand this.Logan liked routine. He didn't like routine to be broken.Aka the first time Patton found Logan having a panic attack.





	Heart Hart Head

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to expand on that little thing I mentioned in Sunrise Secrets, when Patton told Logan not to hit his head. So I did. This is completely nonessential to the series, you can totally skip it! 
> 
> This was written based on my personal experiences, and the title is inspired by "Heart Heart Head" by Meg Myers!
> 
> Specific warnings in the bottom notes!

On Monday, September thirteenth, Logan woke up at 5 AM precisely, as he always did. He put on his glasses, brushed his teeth, and changed into his usual ensemble; a black polo, a tie, and jeans, which he tucked the hem of the polo into. His shoes were the dress shoes his father had given him for his eighteenth birthday, solid black and uncomfortable. Logan didn't particularly care for them, but they made him seem more professional, so he wore them.

 He gulped down three cups of black coffee, poured another into a thermos, and left for class without breakfast.

 Same as always.

 As he sat in his seat, waiting for his professor to show up and sipping from his thermos, he wondered how Patton, his roommate, started his mornings.

 Patton’s first class wasn’t until noon, and Logan was definitely Not Jealous At All.

 He cursed into the empty lecture room when he burned his tongue, which was.

 Not part of the routine.

  _Ah,_ Logan thought to himself with dismay. _It’s one of those days, then._

 One Of Those Days where anything that wasn’t Part Of The Routine was Bad and left a bitter taste in Logan’s mouth. One Of Those Days where every little inconsistency added a rubber band to the ever growing ball in his head until it burst.

 He sipped his coffee again and told himself that was why his mouth tasted Bad and his chest felt tight.

 Luckily, the teacher walked in, followed by streams of students. Logan focused intently on the lesson over human psychology, often with comparisons to certain cartoon characters.

 Logan forgot about the burn on his tongue and the rubber bands in his head.

 

* * *

 

Thankfully, the day progressed as it usually did; classrooms and teachers and students and pencils _scratch-scratch-scrat_ ching. By lunch, Logan’s stomach was growling. He ignored it and made his way to the campus library to study for a test he was to be taking on Friday.

 Same as always.

 He nodded at the librarian politely as he entered, psychology textbook in hand, and began walking to His Spot in the back corner, behind a shelf of classics. Nobody ever really went back there, and those that did were often like Logan; quiet and disinterested in human interaction. So, he claimed it as His Spot for reading. The librarian even let him stay after the library closed, showing him the back door and they hidden key so he could lock the door when he left.

 He rounded the shelf and saw His Spot occupied by two individuals. One wore an orange beanie and laughed, pointing at something in the book the other person, who had bright orange hair, held. They didn't even notice him. The bright-haired person lightly slapped their partner's chest and shushed them with a small smile of their own. Logan turned and went back the way he came, settling in a desk near the computers.

 His mouth was bitter, but he finished his coffee hours ago. His brain grew tighter. He saw the two people looking in each others eyes and he felt sick as his mind supplied him with images of himself and someone else. Someone with round glasses and a wide smile, looking up at him like that, love in his incredible blue eyes.

 Logan shook his head and stormed away from the library, not looking back.

 

* * *

 

The rest of day, Logan was on edge. His shaky hands made him drop his pen in astronomy, he couldn't focus in literary history and missed half the notes, and he almost yelled at his biology teacher for misspelling something on the board.

 The rubber bands creaked in his head. His heart felt like it, too, was being wrapped in rubber bands, and it was going to either explode or get sliced in half. When it was finally time to leave his last class, he rushed to the dorm he stayed at through the lamp-lit darkness of the campus.

 When he got there, he ran to his room and slammed the door shut, and he realized his lungs felt too small, and yet he still couldn't fill them. It feel like there was a third lung in the middle of his chest, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get any air into it.

 He sunk to the ground, sliding against the wall beside the door, and pulled his knees to his chest.

 He couldn't stop thinking of everything. Every inconsistency, every mistake, every _failure_ ran through his head, and like a rat on a wheel, got him nowhere. He tried to stop it, pressed his hands to his ears to silence the voices taunting him with everything that was wrong and he _screamed._

 And then, through the chaos, an idea.

 Without thinking, he slammed his forehead against his knees, and for a split second, his head was quiet. Again, and it lasted longer. Again, and he had one full second of _relief_. Again, again, again, and it wasn't silent, but it was dull. Again, again, again, _again, again, again_ -

 He didn't hear his own screams. Didn't hear his bedroom door open, didn't hear Patton say his name, didn't feel the tears, didn’t see the worry behind blue eyes.

 His rubber band ball of a brain snapped.

 

* * *

 

Patton was freaking out, but he pushed his panic aside as he knelt in front of Logan, who was screaming his lungs out. Patton had come home to hear a door slam, and then there was screaming, and when he opened the door, Logan was slamming his head against his knees, his face red and covered in tears.

 Patton didn't know what to do, so he went with his instincts and tried to stop Logan's head from another blow. But when he tried to catch Logan's head with his hand, he just wound up having his hand slammed between knees and forehead, and it _hurt_ , but he bit his lip and looked around for something, anything to-

  _There!_

 He reached for the pillow on Logan's bed, just out of his reach. He removed his hand from between Logan's head and knees, lunged towards the bed, grabbed the pillow, and replaced his hand with it, all before another blow was delivered.

 When slamming his head stopped having the desired effect due to the cushioning, Logan switched to rocking back and forth, slowly. Patton ignored the pain in his hand as he placed his hands over Logan's, which had a white-knuckled grip on his own hair, the heels driven forcefully onto his ears.

Patton gently massaged Logan's fingers, and they loosened a bit, enough that Patton could pull them away and replace them with the noise-cancelling headphones around his neck. He pulled out his phone and turned on a playlist he'd made a year ago, titled "Sensory Overload". It consisted of calming songs with no lyrics and heavy bass, perfect for drowning out the world when he had his own attacks.

 Predictable, repetitive, simple.

 The screaming died down, turning into sobs, and then small whimpers that broke Patton's heart. Logan's breathing slowed, but his eyes remained shut.

 Patton took Logan's glasses off, wincing at the cracked lens and Logan's bright red forehead, which was already slightly purple in some spots. He pulled Logan's head to rest on his shoulder and rubbed slow circles into the fabric covering his back.

 Though he knew Logan couldn't hear him, he whispered reassuring words.

 "I've got you, Lo. Don't you worry.”

**Author's Note:**

> Logan, in an effort to silence his loud, rushing thoughts, slams his head against his knees repeatedly, finding solace in the quiet that comes with each hit. Patton helps him calm down.
> 
> I hope you liked this! If you did, pleeeease leave kudos, and a comment if you have the time!


End file.
